Between You & I
by shipfic
Summary: Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester both think about the past a lot more than they probably should for the sake of their own sanity. They think about high school the most; how their equally lonely hearts found one another only to lose eachother six years later. They haven't talked to or seen each other since and now, a work assignment brings Castiel face to face with Dean once again.
1. Castiel:Persons of Interest & Halfsies

A/N: This is a dual-perspective fic between Castiel and Dean (each chapter will either follow Castiel or a Dean; it's not in first person, however). Each chapter is also split into 'Now' and 'Then' sections, starting out with the now and cutting into the then (which recounts specific scenarios such as when Castiel met Dean and when they got together and so on). These sections will be progressing in chronological order so it shouldn't be that hard to follow. Other than that, enjoy and please if you have any questions about the story don't hesitate to message me or leave a comment/review on the story.

Now

Castiel Novak's fingers work at the keyboard of his laptop for hours at a time, day after day, transferring fluff about specific person's lives from his interview notes to the word document before him. He's been assigned to the 'Persons of Interest' beat at the Wendover Tribune, the local paper where he snagged a job straight out of college two years ago, and it's slowly killing his passion for journalism like the POI column is hard liquor and he's his own liver. He thinks that it probably wouldn't be all that bad if he could interview someone (anyone!) with anything moderately interesting to tell, but it turns out that every single one of the assignments that he's gotten for over half of the time he's worked at the paper have been _Suzan Leechie (6) of Casselberry is turning seven Sunday and is hoping for all of her classmates to show up at her elegant birthday bash at 3650 Sanderson Dr._ _and Edward Peters (68) of Newmont has fully recovered from his hip replacement surgery and is sending out a thanks to all of those who prayed for him when under the knife. _He's asked his boss, Mr. Crowley, a countless number of times to be switched to a different beat, but for some reason unbeknownst to Castiel, the man hates him and, therefore, loves to see him suffer of boredom.

Castiel checks his watch on a Friday afternoon and lets out a sigh of relief when it reads 5:03, so he pushes his uncomfortable rolling chair back from his wooden desk covered in printed stacks of both rough and final drafts and stands to collect his belongings and go home for the weekend. He sees Crowley step through the glass doors of his office, eyes glued to his cell phone as always, just as he begins to fumble on his tan trench coat, but his boss catches his eye and he knows fleeing is of no use now.

"I've got an assignment for you, Novak." Crowley bellows out, keeping his eyes trained on his phone as he flings the single page in his hands onto his most faithful employee's desk.

Castiel eyes him momentarily, and lets his mind play out a situation in which he tells Crowley to shove it up his ass but his conscience gets the best of him when he hears it in the back of his mind telling him he needs this job, so he collects the paper from where Crowley so carelessly threw it and begins to read over the information on his newest case study.

"Dean Winchester. Twenty-seven. He talked some woman down from the ledge of a forty story building." Crowley states, finally looking up to see Castiel staring intently at the information sheet with a crinkled brow and a slack jaw. He rolls his eyes at his employee, turning on his heel on his way to the elevator.

"Deadline in two weeks!" Crowley shouts at the immobilized man as the elevator door closes between them.

_Dean Winchester_. Castiel can't get over the shock of seeing that name again after all these years, even as he begins to regain feeling in his body. It almost makes him cry. Almost, because he distinctly remembers his twenty-two year old self driving away, promising that he'd never cry over Dean Winchester again, and he's not planning on breaking that promise now. _This doesn't have to be awkward if you don't make it awkward _he tries to tell himself, but he knows it's a lie. It's going to be awkward, whether he likes it or not.

Then

"He's such a fag!" "I bet he would suck my cock for five bucks, that dirty cocksucker!" "I heard he tried to fuck Brent Welsh in the boy's bathroom last week." Castiel can hear the whispers as he walks through the main hallway to his locker at 7:23 in the morning with his eyes turned toward the floor and his only thought is that it's too early for this shit. He's used to the name calling and the isolation that comes along with being the only openly gay kid at a school of just eight hundred but sometimes he wishes for quiet so that he can have some time to wake up before the noise starts to turn his brain to mush. He comes out of his thoughts for a moment and startles when his wish is granted and the only sound that can be heard is the collective groaning of the air vents.

He looks up and turns his head to where the crowd is looking. A muscular boy with dirty blonde, slightly gelled hair is walking through the rusted double doors of the sophomore hallway. He's wearing a plain green t-shirt paired with some beat up dark wash jeans and is holding onto a brown leather jacket which he has slung over his left shoulder. Castiel notices that he's considerably tall, taller than himself at least as the boy walks right by him and he also notices by the continued silence and look of fear on his peer's faces, that people are scared of this boy. This realization confuses Castiel. To him, the boy doesn't really send out a 'scary' kind of vibe. He would say it's more of a lonely vibe. But then, he thinks to himself _Maybe you have to be lonely to see lonely_, and that thought is what makes him go up to this boy, where he stands leaning against a closed locker with everyone else vacating his area, and introduce himself.

He clears his throat and says, "I am Castiel." His low voice can be heard nice and loud in the still silent hall and he can feel a slew of eyes on him as the boy turns around. He appraises Castiel for a moment, the eyes that Castiel can now see are a shade of forest green that match his shirt almost to a tee, roam his body up and down from his unbrushed head of nearly black hair to his maroon polo to his fitted khaki pants to his polished brown oxfords. When his eyes come back up to meet Castiels, the boy smiles slightly.

"Castiel? That's a new one." The boy says, scratching at the back of his head and Castiel looks away and crinkles his forehead because he doesn't know what the stranger is getting at.

"That's not a bad thing." The boy's rough voice is so close now, at his ear and Castiel doesn't dare shift his eyes up again, not until the stranger's breath is safely away from his cheek.

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester." The boy, Dean, comments, not offering his hand to Castiel, but instead winking at him and walking away as the bell rings.

Castiel doesn't see Dean Winchester again until lunch, when he pulls up a chair across from Castiel at the table that has been Castiel's and Castiel's alone since freshman year.

They sit there in silence, each eating their respective food, until dean interrupts the silence with a nice loud, "Dude, the burgers here suck." Castiel laughs, watching Dean appraise the cafeteria-issued cheese burger and his sudden burst of laughter surprises him, because he was just about five seconds away from asking Dean why he thinks he can just sit here without asking. He rethinks his actions now, telling himself that maybe this is his chance to make an actual, real life friend for once in his life.

"That is just the way it is with all of the food from the line. I learned that a long time ago." Castiel says, motioning to his untouched, homemade PB&J, lying next to a granola bar rapper and a half-drunken bottle of apple juice. Dean eyes the sandwich, still in it's zip lock bag, and Castiel doesn't notice.

"Could we maybe go halfsies?" Dean asks, still eyeing the other boy's food as Castiel picks it up.

"Halfsies?" Castiel asks, because he doesn't understand that reference, Dean gives him a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and Castiel thinks to himself that Dean is beautiful.

"You know, share? I could give you my apple if you could give me half of your PB&J." Dean tells him, and Castiel figures _Why not?_ before taking Dean's plastic knife and cutting his sandwich down the middle to make two perfect triangles. He hands one half to Dean and Dean hands Castiel his Granny-smith apple.

"You know, I like you, Cas." Dean tells him, devouring the sandwich triangle in two bites and Castiel realizes that he very much likes that nickname, if only because this suddenly familiar stranger gave it to him.

Castiel brings two PB&J's to lunch the next day, cutting them both in two because he is glad that he now has someone to go halfsies with.


	2. Dean: 'Me' Nights & 1984

A/N: I am really caught up with writing this at the moment. In the three days since I've started it, I've already made it to Chapter 5 and because of that, it might be able to get this updated faster than I had originally thought I could. Other than that, enjoy!

Now

Dean doesn't like Whiskey as much as Whiskey hates him, but he drinks it anyway because Friday nights are his 'me' nights and that usually means they're his 'have a few beers and hang out with the guys' nights, but since his day was extra shitty, that means tonight it's his 'sit on my ass and get completely shit-faced' night. Sam wouldn't agree with it if he knew that it was happening because he says that Dean is slowly turning into a clone of their drunk of a dad, but since Sam is at his night class at the local university right now, he can't do anything to stop it.

Dean's the only person at the bar aside from Ellen, who's behind the counter looking at him like she should ask him what's wrong, but she doesn't and he's glad for that. He probably wouldn't be able to put it into words if he tried, anyway. It's not like he was expecting his ex-boyfriend to show up at his crappy apartment out of the blue to interview him about that lady he saved a few weeks back. If he knew he would have at least hid the picture he keeps on the fireplace mantle of himself tickling Castiel's sides. They're both laughing in it and it's one of Dean's favorites because it captures Castiel's real smile, not the fake one he'd give whenever he'd laugh at Dean's joke even though he didn't get it.

Castiel saw the picture when he first walked in the door and went over to it and Dean found himself wondering if Castiel also noticed all the changes that have taken place in his rickety old apartment since the blue eyed boy last saw it three years ago. Dean's already flushed face turned beat red when Castiel looked from the picture to peer at him, but then he saw the smile the shorter boy gave him; the same real smile that he's wearing in the photo, and he couldn't help but smile right back, breaking the indifferent front he'd been trying so hard to maintain since he opened the door to the man he thought he may never see again.

"You still have this?" Castiel asked, as if he was miffed by even the possibility. Dean bit his lip and watched as Castiel picked up the photo.

"Well, um-I…" Dean tried to mutter out a response, but his brain wouldn't let him.

"I like that one." Dean heard Castiel mutter, seemingly to himself, putting the picture back in it's place and taking a seat on the black leather couch pushed against the far wall in Dean's living room. Dean didn't sit next to him. He couldn't, so he took a seat on the warn-out tan recliner directly across from the couch and waited for Castiel to ask whatever questions he had come to ask. Castiel does. _Where did it happen?_, _why were you there?_, _why did you decide to help?_, _What did it feel like afterwards?_, _What did woman say to you?_, and then he ended with _Is there anything more you'd would like to add? _Dean answered all of the questions to the best is his ability, adding direct quotes every now and then because Castiel asked him to and then, just when he thought it was over, Castiel inquired about one thing that he wasn't expecting.

"How-how have you been, Dean?" Dean looked at Castiel as he turned his attention to fiddling with the pages of his yellow journalistic notebook, the one he didn't bother writing in at all during the interview.

Dean decideed then to answer honestly because as he looked at Castiel now, all he could see was the shy sixteen-year-old he met on a foggy Monday morning all those years ago, with bright blue eyes that sucked him in and still haven't let go, and he felt that's what this Castiel deserves; the truth_. Cas isn't the one that screwed this thing up, you are_, He tells himself.

"These past three years have been fucking hell, Cas." Dean confessed, running a hand through his hair and looking everywhere but to Castiel and those damn eyes of his.

"They really have. Dad's as bad as ever so Sammy and me aren't talking to him until he gets his shit together; haven't for about a year or so now. Sam's at college at Wendover Community College and I know that's not what he wanted but he said he wanted to say here for me and it kills me every day I swear it does." Dean looked at the man across from him now as he rubbed a hand over his face, an exhausted action, and could see by the expression that Castiel wore that he wanted to close the distance between them and comfort Dean like he used to be able to without hesitation, and Dean wanted that, too, but he didn't say anything. He knew it wasn't his place anymore to ask that of Castiel, so instead he asked Castiel to leave.

Then

Dean is not the kind of person who wakes up every morning excited to go to school, that's why it surprises him when he does on the morning of his second day at Wendover Jr./Sr. High. He knows his excitement has nothing to do with school and everything to do with a quiet, proper boy named after an angel of Thursday (yes, he'd googled it), but he tries not to look too much into that because he doesn't want to have to rely on others for happiness. He learned that it's easier not to years ago, when his and Sam's mother died in a fire and their father spiraled out of control without her.

"Wow, you're already awake? You must be possessed by an angel or something, because, boy, I have known you since you were born and this has never happened." Bobby says, walking past Dean's room on his way to the kitchen where he cooks them all eggs and bacon every morning before school.

"This doesn't have to do with that weird kid you started hanging with yesterday, does it?" Sam asks now from the bathroom next door, spiting and rinsing before poking his head into Dean's room just to have a pillow thrown at his face.

"How do you even know about that?" Dean asks as Sam laughs and throws the pillow right back at him.

"Small school. Seventh graders talk too, you know." Sam states, smiling like he's in on privileged information, even though Dean knows that if he truly was he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself even if his life depended on it.

"I know what you're going to say, Sammy, so you can drop the act. I have ears. I know what people say about him. I don't need a refresher from a twelve-year-old." Dean tells his brother in a voice that clearly says _this conversation is over_ as he rolls out of bed and goes over to his rickety old dresser to find an outfit for the day.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Sam says in a low voice, turning away.

"I'm just glad you have a friend, Dean, and that you're giving him one. From what I hear, he really needs it." Is what Dean hears just before Sam closes Dean's door between them and it makes Dean smile more than it probably should.

The Winchester brothers get to school an hour early that day and that simple fact makes Sam's eyes go wide with excitement as he drags his brother with him to the school library. As soon as they step foot into the place, however, Sam leaves his brother standing there in the small entryway to go explore the shelves and Dean looks around, not knowing what to do until he sees a certain boy with messy dark hair and a pale yellow polo shirt sitting down at one of the tables toward the back of the library. He goes over and stands at the opposite side of the table, not pulling out the chair or making his presence known because he wants to see how long it will take Castiel, who's deeply concentrated with the storyline of some book Dean can't see the title of, to notice he's there.

He counts to two hundred thirty-seven in his head, watching as Castiel runs his eyes down the lines of a page, flipping to the next and then the next before the blue eyed boy looks up for a moment and startles, bringing his book, _1984_, to his chest.

"God… Dean." Castiel breathes out as he tries to catch his breath.

"How long have you been standing there?" he dog-ears his page now and sets the book down on the table, looking up as Dean sits across from him and drops his book bag to the ground at the side of the table.

"A little bit over three minutes." Dean answers truthfully, sliding Castiel's book closer so that he can thumb through it.

"So, _1984_, huh?" Dean says it like he expected more of Castiel's taste in literature, because he did. He expected _War and Peace _or something equally as worldly, not the book that he remembers skimming through in the eighth grade so that he would be able to half-ass his book report properly.

"What? It is a good book!" Castiel's deep voice nearly yells in irritation and Dean finds himself smiling as he realizes that Castiel is defending this book probably because he's pretty passionate about it.

"I'm not saying that it's not, Cas. Chill." Dean tells him, putting down the book and setting his eyes on Castiel.

"You kind of did." Castiel says it in a whisper as he casts his eyes down and Dean sees it in his face that people must do this to him all the time; talk bad about the things he likes and does to make him feel bad about liking them, and Dean tells himself right then and there that he won't be one of those people.

"You can read whatever you want, Cas. I'm not going to tell you not to or that you're lame if you do. I'm just… curious I guess. Why _1984_?" And Dean really is. He wants to know Castiel and what he likes and why he likes what he likes and that scares Dean, but it also makes him so happy that he can't even feel the fear coursing through his veins telling him that he's becoming too attached.


	3. Castiel: Bad Ideas & 20 Questions

Now

Castiel never deleted Dean's number from his phone. It's still there in his contacts with a heart next to his name just how he left it three years back, and Castiel finds himself wondering at two o' clock in the morning as he tries to fall asleep if the number is still connected. He has his phone in his hand moments later, the screen illuminating the otherwise pitch black room, his thumb hovering over Dean's name in his contacts list. _This is a bad idea_, he tells himself even as the pad of his right thumb meets the screen. He hears the muffled ringing sound that indicates a call being made even before he puts his phone up to his ear. He waits for two beats and then another, but then, just as he's about to hang up, the call connects.

"Cassssss? Caaaaaaaaaas… I'm soooo happy you calllled…" A voice on the other side of the line answers and it immediately becomes evident to Castiel that Dean is drunk, but Castiel doesn't find himself caring as much as he knows he should because he's basking in the sound of his name on Dean's alcohol soaked tongue even now.

"Caaaas, hey, Caaaaas. Lis-ten, mannn… thisss iss _really_ immmpooortaant, oookayyy?.. I looove you. I looooooovvve you sooooooo fuck-ing much, Caaaaas. I never st-stopped, youuu knooow. I was so fuck-ing sc-scared, man; th-hat nighttt I toooold yooou toooo leeeave…" he pauses for a second, catching his breath.

"I-I stillll thi-nk about you when I touch mys-" Dean begins again, but then his voice cuts off abruptly, and Cas starts to panic slightly, but then he can hear the phone being jostled and a muffled laugh, Dean's laugh, then two voices; a woman's stern vibrato telling him to hand the phone over and a deeper, exhausted sounding one repeating it. Dean laughs again and says something along the lines of "My boy. Go get your own!". The phone jostles again and the deeper voice is clear and loud in Castiel's ear now.

"Hello? Castiel?" the man says and Castiel wonders briefly how he knows his full name.

"Y-yes?" he stutters out.

"Um... This is Sam. You remember me?" and yes, of course Castiel does, the boy was like a little brother to him for six years, but he doesn't say anything and Sam seems to have predicted that he wouldn't because he goes on.

"Well, Cas… Dean is… he's pretty drunk, as you probably have already gathered, but… um… I guess what I'm trying to say is that it'd be great if you didn't mention this to Dean later. He's not going to remember this in the morning and… that's probably for the best, you know?" Sam says it in a whisper, like he intends it to be a secret just between the two of them, probably because he does. That makes Castiel anxious because that means that what Dean said to him is, more than likely, true.

"We-we are not… exactly on speaking terms right now, Sammy." Castiel tells the younger man, but his mind negates his words when it notes how much he likes the familiarity of Sam's nickname in his own voice.

"Yeah, well I have a feeling that you will be before long." He confesses and Castiel swears he can hear a smile in the younger man's voice, and that hint of a smile gives Castiel some hope that maybe, just maybe, six years ago when he told himself that they're done for good, he didn't know what he was talking about.

Then

The final bell rings on the third day that Castiel has known Dean when Dean finds Castiel at his locker and asks him if he wants a ride home. Castiel usually catches a ride with his older brother, Gabriel, but he doesn't mention this to Dean, instead texting Gabriel that he's getting dropped off at home by a friend before they head out.

"You know, Dean Winchester, I barely know anything about you. You could be coaxing me to my murder right now and I would not even know it." Castiel states, bumping his shoulder into Dean's as they walk and Dean lets out a loud chuckle.

"That's not completely true. You know that I think the cafeteria food sucks." Castiel rolls his eyes at that.

"Everyone thinks that. Tell me about yourself. Like… Are you from around here?" Castiel goes on, but is stopped when Dean makes a 'tsk tsk' sound, wagging his index finger in Castiel's direction as they stop in front of a slick black car.

"If we're going to do the question thing, we gotta at least do it properly." Dean states emphatically, sending a boyish smile Castiel's way and leaning against the car that Castiel can only imagine is his.

"What do you mean? Oh, this is going to be the part where you kill me, right?" the joke rolls off of Castiel's tongue even through his true confusion that makes his brow furrow as he sees Dean crack a smile, and Castiel walks over and copies the taller boy's stance on the space of car beside him.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Dean teases and Castiel shrugs, because he supposes that would depend on Dean's definition of _much_.

"_20 Questions_, dude!" Dean's tone rings with excitement, eyes widening, hands gesturing wildly and Castiel doesn't know what he's talking about so he doesn't say anything.

"Uh, come on! You don't know what _20 Questions_ is?" Dean says it like it's a form of blasphemy, turning to put both of his hands on either of Castiel's shoulders.

"This is a pivotal point of your life, Cas, so you gotta listen, okay?" and Castiel just nods once, waiting for Dean to go on.

"_20 Questions_ is an old game that everyone, _everyone!_, used to play when I was a kid. You had this little round electronic thing and you picked an object or name or something and the round thing would guess what it was by asking you twenty questions, but that's not the way we're going to play it…" Castiel waited for Dean to explain how exactly they were going to play it, but Dean got distracted, seeing something, _someone?_, Castiel guessed by the wide smile he threw toward the direction of the school.

"Hey, Bitch!" Castiel inwardly wondered if he's heard that right, because he knows that the word that Dean has used, _bitch_, is not an enduring term, but the way in which Dean says it makes it sound like it is one and that confuses Castiel immensely.

"Hey to you too, Jerk." Sounds another, slightly higher pitched voice and Castiel looks in the direction it came from to see a short boy with a mop of chestnut hair ambling over to them with a stack of large books in his arms. He shares some of the same facial features as Dean, so Castiel goes ahead and assumes that this is Dean's little brother. He hadn't known Dean had any siblings, but then he's sure Dean doesn't know that he has any either, let alone four.

"Hey, Castiel." The young boy greets him as if he's known him all his life, walking right up to him and giving him a bright smile. Castiel doesn't know what to think of this, so he looks over to Dean only to receive a wink, making a slight blush appear on Castiel's cheeks.

"This is my little brother, Sam." Dean tells Castiel, mussing up the boy's hair. Sam laughs and Dean does too.

"Who shouldn't be creeping people out by knowing their names when they've never met them before." Dean admonishes as he opens the driver's side door of the car, throwing his backpack into the back seat.

"Hey! I only know his name because he's all _you_ could talk about yesterday!" Sam defends, going to open the passenger side door before Dean shoos him away to the back seat.

Castiel stands there because he doesn't know what to do but then Dean pokes his head out the driver's side window and Castiel can swear that Dean's face looks a bit redder than usual as he motions for him to slip into the passenger seat.

"This right here is my baby. She's a 1967 Chevy Impala." Dean tells Castiel as they pull out of the lot and Castiel tells him which direction to turn. Castiel doesn't know much about cars, so he can't particularly tell if Dean's 'baby' is a good one, but it's obvious that Dean thinks it is, so he goes along with it, starting to ask questions about it but Dean stops him.

"Didn't I already tell you, Cas? If we're going to do the questions thing we have to do it right!" Dean bellowed in mock frustration as they hit the highway leading to Cas' house.

"_20 Questions_? Oh yeah!" Sam whoops from the back seat and even though they're only ten minutes away from their destination, they start to play.

Dean goes first, because he says that he has a rule of the driver always having priority in any given situation, and Sam grumbles something from the back seat about how it's true.

"What's your full name?" Dean asks and just before Castiel is about to reply with what the other boy already knows, Dean adds on to his question.

"-and no skimping out on the middle name, that's the best part." He says, side-eyeing the boy next to him for a short second before setting his eyes back onto the road in front of him.

"Castiel Ellison Novak." Castiel mutters under his breath, but Dean cups a hand over his left ear as if he hadn't heard him. When Castiel raises his voice, Dean lets out a loud laugh and then apologies, both for the name and laughing at it.

"Hey, don't laugh at him, Jerk! You got it easy, Dean Robert Winchester. I got stuck with Samuel _Eugene _Winchester. How did that even happen?" Castiel laughs and so does Dean, telling Castiel to take his turn before he takes it for him.

"Are you guys from around here?" Castiel asks the question he had intended to get the answer to thirty minutes ago.

"We're kind of from everywhere. Our dad used to be a travel salesman so he'd drag us along with him to jobs." Dean tells Castiel, and Castiel is satisfied with that answer, but Sam cuts in.

"-Our dad, he's a drunk; a mean one. Has been since I was a baby, so Dean pretty much raised me. We moved here a week ago from Kansas to live with our Uncle Bobby until Dean turns eighteen so we can get away for good." Sam shares the information Dean left out and Castiel doesn't know what to say as stillness settles over them all. Castiel thinks about his own family life now, and how his parents like seeing the world more than they like seeing their children. He thinks about the nanny that raised him and how she was the greatest person he'll ever know because of that.

"You raised Sam?" Castiel asks, suddenly breaking the silence after a good amount of time, looking over at Dean. They're only about a block away from Castiel's house now, driving through the neighborhood of identical Victorian house after the next.

"Uh… yeah. I guess I did in a way." Dean says after another beat of quiet, he scratches the back of his head and Castiel tells him to take the last turn before they see Castiel's house.

"I just... you are a really good person, Dean." Castiel's voice is small as he looks down, and is grateful when Dean doesn't say anything else about the subject; doesn't comment on his compliment, instead letting out a low whistle as he parks in Castiel's driveway, looking up at the two-story, ivory paneled house before him. The grand stairs lead to the wrap around porch and archway above the heavy oak double doors that stretch up to the second story above it.

"You live here?" Sam's awed tone sounds from the back seat and Castiel bites his lip, thinking about the emptiness that the grand house before him holds, and how it has never once felt like a home to him in all of his sixteen years. He grabs his messenger bag from where he placed it near his feet when he got in, opens the passenger side door, but then pauses.

"Sometimes I wish I did not." is all he comments before getting out of the Impala and making his way up the driveway to his lonely destination without saying goodbye.


	4. Dean: Hangovers & Coldplay

Now

Dean wakes up on Saturday morning to the beam of light shining through the blinds of his window. It burns his eyes and makes him think he's going to die right then and there from the intense feeling of his head pounding. It hurts to the extent that he imagines his brain is being split open on an operating table without being put under anesthesia.

Sam walks into the room a moment later holding a glass of water in one hand and a few tablets, probably aspirin, in the other.

"What the hell happened last night?" Dean's groggy tone asks, and Sam looks at him in a way that says, _you don't want to know_.

Dean considers this for a moment, asking himself what he could have done to get a response like that from the boy who doesn't have one single secretive bone in his body, as he swallows the tablets dry, chasing them down with a large gulp of water.

"So, it was really that bad, huh?" Dean inquires, setting the water glass on his bedside table and looking over at his brother, who's already half way out of the door.

"Seriously, Dean, you really don't want to go there." Sam warns him, brushing his lengthy hair out of his face, but Dean still can't help but wonder.

Dean's messing around with his phone during his shift at the bar on Sunday night when his thumb fumbles and accidently hits his call logs app. That's when he notices something… interesting, if not frightening. Typed out right there in black and white, it says he picked up a call from 'my baby Cas' on Friday night, or he guesses the proper term would be Saturday morning, from 2:18 am to 2:23 am.

Dean's mind automatically begins to whirl at the number of humiliating and horrible and downright _inappropriate_ things that his drunken mouth could have muttered through the phone to Castiel in those six short minutes. It could have been _Remember that time we decided to bake a pie, you know, because I love pie, and it melted? It __**melted**__, Cas! Do you rememeber that? I remember that _or _I hate you, you know that? No, I'm lying. I don't hate you. I hate me for telling you to leave. I love you. _Or _Hey, Cas, you were wearing the trench coat I bought you today. Did you know that? That made me so happy… and horny. Don't tell me I said that though. I might get jealous._ He's not going to lie to himself and pretend they're things he doesn't want to say to Castiel, because they are, but it would help him to know what, if any of them, he actually did say. He doesn't know how he'll find out, because, truthfully, he doesn't have the guts to call Castiel and ask him right out, so he figures he'll have to coax it out of Sam. _It shouldn't be too hard_, he tells himself, _After all_, _the dweeb did forget to delete the evidence_.

Then

Dean doesn't see Castiel at all on Thursday. He's not in the library in the morning, as he has been every other day of the week. He's not at the table at lunch that has slowly started to become their own little oasis. He's not at his locker between second, fourth, fifth, and seventh periods, when Dean has been stopping by since fifth on Monday to blabber with Castiel about how Mrs. Johnson assigned way too much homework or how that stoner kid that's in their seventh period class, aka the only one they share throughout the day, finally got busted.

Castiel's absence upsets Dean more than he's willing to admit to himself, so after school he heads straight to Castiel's house as he waits for Sam to get out of one of the student council meetings he only attends to capture the attention of some girl named Jessica that he's been falling all over.

Dean cuts the Impala's engine and walks slowly up to the ornate house, standing there staring at the large wooden doors for a moment before lifting the golden knocker and dropping it once. He'd been expecting to wait there for a while but then the door opens to reveal a young girl, probably around thirteen or fourteen, with pale skin and long auburn hair twisted into a side braid. She looks up at Dean through her lashes, giving him a sweet smile.

"Why hello there, Dean Winchester." She greets as her hand waves him inside, so Dean obliges and pushes the door open farther to step through while taking his first look around the place.

He didn't know what expect of the inside of Castiel's house, but he probably wasn't expecting this. Aside from the ornate, ivory spiral staircase leading to the second floor of the large home, the place is homey; the walls are a shade of honey brown that matches the brick of the fireplace in the corner. It's neighbored by a large liquor cabinet with an L-shaped sofa directly across from it in the center of the room, a large plasma-screen television plastered to the wall in front of it. The girl watches him the whole time, and then he looks down at her and she speaks up again.

"I'm Anna, Castiel's sister." He takes her hand when she offers it, giving it one firm shake before releasing and he almost tells her his name until he realizes that she somehow already knows that.

"You know who I am?" he asks the girl as he comes back into his mind and she laughs like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course I do. The whole school is abuzz about you and how you 'had so much promise' until you decided to 'shack up' with my brother." She says the last part with a note of disgust and that earns her a few brownie-points in Dean's book, because he's never much cared for the labels and the cliques that come along with high school and he appreciates others who share that belief.

"Uh, so… is Cas here? He wasn't at school today so I just figured I'd stop by to check up on him." He asks

"Yeah, he's upstairs. Said something pretty emo-ish about wanting to be left alone to die because, and I quote, 'The world is a lonely dark abyss that will eat us all alive anyway'." She tells him, rolling her eyes dramatically, but then she sees Dean's worried expression and throws him a comforting smile.

"He'll be fine, really. It's no big deal; just something he does every few weeks." She pauses and then begins to whisper as if she's not supposed to know the rest: "His therapist says it's due to emotional trauma." And she looks down to the floor, pausing once again and then spurting out one last bit.

"…but I won't tell you that part. It's not really my story to tell." Anna then nods to the stair well, telling him to listen for the 'depressing music' before ducking into another room.

Dean hears Coldplay seeping out from the left hallway as soon as he takes the last step of the staircase. _…because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn, do back the things it did to you in return…_ He follows the beat all the way to the last door of the wide hall, and takes a deep breath before knocking loudly. The door doesn't open after he stands there for a good two minutes, so he knocks twice more, just as loudly. He's lucky that this time it was on the decrescendo because it's obvious that he's heard by the "I thought I told you that I want to be alo-" that begins, coming closer to the door, before it stops as the door is pulled open to reveal a disheveled looking Castiel standing there.

"-Oh. Dean." He reads Castiel's lips, because he can't hear him over the stereo's volume. Castiel leaves the door ajar to pick up a remote and turn down the song that's blasting, so that all that's left is a quiet _said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go, stand here beside me, baby, watch the orange glow… _encompassing the air inside the room. Castiel comes back to open the door fully and Dean walks in, his ears still ringing. The clutter and chaos that he sees seems so unlike the boy he's gotten to know over the last few days that he has to ask Castiel if this is his room. He only realizes that that may have been rude when he sees a blush arise on Castiel's cheeks.

"I-I didn't mean it like that." He defends, and gazes at his friend, who looks like he probably hasn't slept since the last time Dean saw him, which worries Dean even more than he already is despite Anna's attempt to lessen it.

"It is… I am fine." Castiel says, but Dean can tell by the way he lets his eyes fall to the hard wood of his bedroom floor that he doesn't mean it, so he grabs the shorter boy's shoulders and walks him to take a seat on the foot of his bed and pulls out the black computer chair from it's place at Castiel's desk, sitting in it before scooting himself over until he's right in front of his friend.

"Cas, don't take this the wrong way, but… no you're not. I can see that much with my own two eyes." Dean pauses, grabbing Castiel's hand and holding onto it.

_So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war, if you can tell me something worth fighting for…_

"Look, I know I haven't known you for long, but you're the best friend I have and I care about you, okay? I do, so I'm here for you if you want to talk about… whatever. I'm here if you don't want to talk, too. We can just sit here together and drown our thoughts with Coldplay if you want. Just as long as you know you're not alone." Castiel looks up at him then and Dean sees a tear roll down his cheek. They sit there in silence like that for a long moment and Castiel tugs Dean over to sit next to him on the bed, snuggling himself in as Dean pulls the smaller boy into his chest.

_Honey, all the movements you're starting to make, see me crumble and fall on my face…_

"Thank you, Dean. I am really grateful to have you, but… I do not think that I am ready to talk about this yet." Castiel whispers, sniffling between every other word as his tears fall into Dean's black ACDC t-shirt.

"-but I think I could take you up on your offer of drowning out our thoughts with Coldplay." He says after a beat with the smallest hint of a smile.

So that's what they do; Dean holds Castiel and they sit there together, letting _A Rush of Blood to the Head _entrance them until Dean watches his friend fall asleep with tear-stained cheeks in his embrace.


	5. Castiel: Memories & Sleepovers

Castiel doesn't usually do bars since he prefers the expensive stuff that he steals from Lucifer's liquor cabinet, so he surprises even himself when his jittery thoughts drive him to a Podunk little bar late Sunday night. Gabriel comes with him, telling his brother that he wants to check out the "fine ladies" but Castiel knows that this is Gabriel's way of watching out for him, even if he doesn't say it.

The very second Castiel gets to the counter, however, he feels his stomach turn and his mind stall as he sees the very familiar back of a certain someone's head right there behind it. Gabriel, already occupying one of the six oak bar stools available, looks back at him with a confused expression on his face, a question on the tip of his tongue that he realizes a moment later he doesn't have to ask when he comes face-to-face with Dean Winchester.

"What can I get for-" Dean starts, before he fully realizes who is before him.

"uh… hey, Cas." He says quickly, eyeing Castiel and coughing. He adds in a "Gabriel" before glancing back at Castiel.

"Whiskey sour?" Dean asks Castiel, and Castiel nods slightly. He can't help the smile that comes to his lips at the realization that Dean remembers his drink order. Gabriel lets out a stiff cough, and both pairs of eyes direct their attention away from each other and turn toward him.

"If you guys are done with your love-fest, get me a dry apple martini, Dean-o and have that nice looking waitress over there bring it to me at the corner booth over there." Dean doesn't say a thing, but Gabriel leaves them for the booth anyway.

Dean gets started on Castiel's drink, eyes on his work the entire time, even as he begins to ask questions.

"So… uh-how's the article going?" Dean inquires, not looking up from the glass as he squeezes lemon juice into it. Castiel was quiet for a long moment, watching Dean's hands work, but then he smiles as he catches the memory that Dean's words trigger.

"Someone once told me that 'If we're going to do the question thing, we gotta at least do it properly'." Castiel says, mimicking 16-year-old Dean to a tee. Dean looks up then, a smile on his lips as he looks at the boy sitting across from him.

"Yeah, I think I've heard that somewhere. _20 Questions_, right?" Dean plays along, sliding Castiel's drink over to him. Castiel nods his head, taking a gulp of his whiskey sour. He wants Dean to watch his lips seal around either side of the glass. He wants Dean to think about when his lips used to do this same thing to Dean's tongue and his… other parts.

"The customer is always right, so I go first." Castiel says, licking his lips and setting his half-gone drink in front of him. Dean smirks at Castiel now, swinging the wet-bar rag between his fingers and letting it rest over his left shoulder the same way he did with his jacket that first day Castiel met him.

"Are you single?" Castiel's question tenses things. Dean averts his eyes and scratches the back of his head, Castiel notes, the same way he used all those years ago to when he was nervous.

"I-uh… It's complicated." Dean answers and Castiel doesn't understand what that means, so me motions him to go on.

"Well… relationships aren't-I don't do them… anymore…" Dean trails off and Castiel gets it now. _Dean has turned into a player_, Castiel thinks before he even realizes it, and from that realization, a whole slew of question pop into his head.

"So you sleep around?" Castiel says it more as a statement than a question, so Dean doesn't respond; he just nods kind of solemnly.

"and you think about me when you do it." The words are out of Castiel's mouth before he can stop them, and Dean looks efficiently horrified.

"Where did you-oh god did I?-I did didn't I?" Dean says, his cheeks are tinted with a sweet pink color that makes him look like a school boy.

"Well, not exactly in those words, but… you kind of did, yes." Castiel tells him, looking from Dean to his drink and back, knowing his face is equally as red as Dean's, if not more. Dean leans over the bar so that his face is level with Castiel's and he moves his face so that his mouth is inches away from the other man's ear.

"What else did I say?" Dean asks in a low voice and Castiel's eyes widen as he coughs as if he's coking.

"You okay?" a female voice pops up from behind Dean. A blonde girl winks at Dean as he turns to look at her and Castiel immediately hates her for it. He knows he has no right to Dean anymore; that that privilege was lost a long time ago, but that doesn't mean he wants to watch his ex-boyfriend be flirted with by some girl he's probably slept with.

Castiel suddenly realizes that the girl is still looking at him and he smiles at her awkwardly.

"I am fine. Thank you…" he trails off, not knowing her name.

"Jo. I don't think I've ever seen you in here." She says as she grabs a cloth for the wet bar and smack Dean with it. He takes that as his signal to leave. They must be switching shifts, because Dean circles around the bar and takes a seat next to Castiel.

"I'm Castiel Novak." Castiel tells her as he lets go of Jo's outstretched hand. Jo gives Dean a wide-eyed look that says _really?_ And Dean gives Jo a look back that says _shut the hell up_ but she doesn't.

"So, is _Cas_ your nickname?" Jo says it like that's very interesting and when Castiel asks her "What?" she kind of laughs.

"I've just really _heard_ of you. That's all." She comments, side-eyeing Dean with a devilish smirk that says _If you don't tell him I will_. Dean scratches the back of his head again and then he sighs, leaning over toward Castiel's ear.

"I may have…um… said your name when I was-when I was _with_ Jo." Dean says the last part really fast, as if he thinks that if he says it fast enough, Castiel won't hear it, but he does hear it and Castiel doesn't really know what to think after that. Maybe that _This is a good thing_, but mostly that _This can't happen, because I don't know you anymore. Too much has changed. Too many years have gone by._ And then he settles with himself as his eyes meet Dean, still so close, forest colored eyes wide and face flushed. Looking at Dean now, his mind is flooded with so many memories, and in each one of them Dean's face matches the one he wears now; one gloomy night in February when they both solidified their trust for the other over the swapping of tragic back stories. One noisy lunch period near the end of that same school year, a few weeks after their first kiss, when Castiel licked peanut butter off of the corner of Dean's mouth. One summer afternoon spent holding each other under the shade of the big oak tree in Castiel's backyard. All of those wonderful, happy flashes of the past lead Castiel to the idea that he _can_ get to know Dean again. He won't let his own pride or fear or hesitancy tear him away from getting back the one person who's ever seen all the flaws and inconsistencies that make up who he is and loved him anyway.

Then

_Carry on my wayward son. They'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more._

Castiel startles awake three hours later to the sound of a song he has never heard. It takes his still drowsy mind a moment to realize that it doesn't belong in his quiet room, but to Dean, who is still there wrapped around him, but now asleep lying flat on his back, his shirt riding up and his boots still laced on his feet. Castiel's chest is pressed up against Dean's side. His shaggy dark head of hair resting against Dean's ACDC shirt that still harbors Castiel's drying tears.

Castiel assumes the repeating first verse of the unfamiliar song is being emitted from Dean's cellphone, but he can't seem to move to find out because of the tight grip that Dean's biceps hold him with, even as he continues sleeping.

"Dean." Castiel doesn't know how horse his voice is until the familiar name slips from his mouth, so he tries again, moving his lips only inches away from Dean's ear and speaking louder this time.

"Dean!" Dean's eyes open slowly, but he doesn't move. He stares down at Castiel and his lips lift in a small smile.

_Don't you cry no more_, another cycle of the ringtone nears its end.

"Dean, your phone." Castiel says, breaking the silence and Dean's eyes go wide as if he's remembered something.

"_Fuck_!" He shouts, unwinding his limbs from Castiel's and then rushing to grab his phone from the front left pocket of his jeans. He jumps up from the bed and turns away from Castiel.

"Fuck, Sammy, I'm so fucking sorry! I got caught up with… something." He rushes to say once the phone is to his ear, turning back around so that his eyes can find Castiel's.

"Jess' mom gave you a lift? Thank god." Castiel watches him let out a sigh now, running a hand through his hair and eyes close for a moment.

"I swear I'll make this up to you, Sam." He says, sounding defeated and regret ridden. He listens to whatever Sam says on the other end of the line before letting out a hum of acknowledgement and hanging up.

"Sammy's never gonna trust me with any responsibility ever again." Dean says, falling onto the bed next to Castiel once more. Castiel just turns his head to look at the boy beside him and puts on his best supportive face, even though before this moment he's never had to have a supportive face so it kind of turns out looking like he's constipated, or at least that's what Dean tells him.

"I am just trying to be a good friend." Castiel tells Dean through a laugh. He slaps Dean's chest in a playful manner and Dean gives him a small smile.

"Thanks, Cas." Dean whispers, pressing a tender kiss to Castiel's forehead. Cas can feel Dean's smile on his skin and he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of happiness that arises suddenly within him in this moment. Dean kicks off his shoes and Castiel relaxes beside his friend. Soon they're both dreaming away again, and they don't wake up until Castiel's alarm goes off at 6:45 on Friday morning.


	6. Dean: Changes & Self-defense

Now

Dean leaves the bar that night with Castiel by his side. He was so surprised when Castiel said "Do you want to come over to my place?" that it took him a few moments to mutter a quick "sure" through a wide smile after Castiel made it clear that it wasn't going to be like _that_, even when Gabriel cat-called and yelled "Don't worry, lil' bro. You get yours. I'll call a cab." from the corner booth where he was unyielding in his corny attempts to pick up Jo.

"I just-I miss you, Dean. I want to get to know you again" Castiel tells him as they walk through the dim lights of the now dark parking lot to Castiel's silver Toyota Camry. Dean doesn't say a thing, he bites his lip and slides into the passenger seat as Castiel starts the engine and as soon as he does, _A Rush of Blood to the Head _echoes out through the speakers and into the confines of the car.

_Said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go_…

"I guess some things never change." Dean whispers, mostly to himself because he can still picture the broken boy that opened the bedroom door for him, this song the theme to the lonely life that Dean told himself he couldn't allow to be so lonely anymore.

"I don't quite think I would be me without this song." Castiel says, his eyes finding Dean's. Dean hears the words as Castiel says them, but takes away a different meaning, because this song quickly became _theirs_ all those years ago.

"Me neither." Dean tells him, reaching to turn the volume up so that the down beat can completely fill the empty space around them, and with that they drive the fifteen minutes to Castiel's apartment.

Dean watches Castiel put on a tea-kettle once they're settled into the apartment, Coats and shoes shed in their respective locations by the front door, and Dean can't help but be taken aback by the unfamiliarity of the action; Castiel was never a tea kind of person. He was more of a straight double-expresso kind of person, and Dean finds himself wondering when that changed.

"So, since when do you drink herbal tea, Mr. Expresso King?" Dean questions as they take seats opposite each other at the small round table in Castiel's kitchen, large white tea cups being nursed in each of their hands. Castiel looks from where he's blowing cool air into his cup to Dean.

"Four years ago. My therapist suggested I cut out caffeine after I went in with some pretty severe anxiety and depression issues." Castiel says it casually, like it's just a thing that happened and is now behind him, but Dean connects the dots in his head; the way tremors shook through Castiel the last time he saw him as he screamed and cried himself to oblivion before getting in his car and not looking back, the heavy, broken breathing Dean heard on the other side of the line all of the times within the next year that he called the other boy from a blocked number just to hear him say 'Hello'. Dean kicks himself for not picking up on this before now. _I should've known_, he thinks to himself, but then he takes it back, _No, I should've not been a fucking coward_. Dean sets his teacup down on the table in front of him and reaches out, placing his right hand atop the right of Castiel's that is gripping the handle of his white cup.

"I'm so sorry," is all Dean's mouth says, but he tries to make his eyes say everything else that his words leave out. _For not believing in myself_; _I still sometimes don't_. _For not believing in everything we had, I do now. I completely do. For telling you to leave_. _For letting you actually do it_. _For being a spineless coward_. _For putting you through all of it._

"I know, Dean." Castiel says, and Dean can tell by the way Castiel says it that he understands all that Dean didn't say. Dean lets go of the other man's hand as Castiel put down his cup as well.

"It was not all your fault, you know. I know that you think it was, but it was not." Castiel tells Dean in a small voice. Their hands are locked now, entwined at the center of the small table between them, Castiel's thumbs running over Dean's knuckles.

"I could have fought you. I could have refused to leave. I could have stayed and made you look me in the eye and tell me what was wrong, because I knew, Dean. I knew that you were scared… I was scared too." Dean hears him but he looks at their hand and he realizes that he hadn't realized until now how much he's missed this; simple touches. They stay like that, hand in hand and looking into each other's eyes until Castiel sees the time and realizes that it's 1:15 AM and he has to get up bright and early for work in the morning. Dean's trying to disguise his smile all throughout the drive back to the bar, because his mind tells him that this won't be the last time he'll see Castiel. His suspicion is confirmed when they part ways after Castiel tells him "I'll call you tomorrow." Dean just nods, containing his excitement on the outside so that he doesn't look like a thirteen-year-old girl that just went to her first Justin Bieber concert, but on the inside, he is that thirteen-year-old girl.

Then

When Dean arrives to school on Friday with Castiel, people stare. Dean's used to staring, and even some talk, and he's fine with it, when it's about him. But then people start talking about Castiel. He'd heard some ruthless chatter about his friend on his first day, but none since that morning, when Castiel walked up to him. At least until now.

"I heard that he paid Winchester to fuck him." "Really? Because I heard that _his brother _paid Winchester to fuck him." Two girls gossip as they walk through the school courtyard. Dean sees Castiel's eyes cast down to his feet almost immediately. Dean halts just as they're about to pass the two. He removes his arm from where it's hanging around Castiel's neck and steps closer to the girls, into their faces.

"I'm not scared to hit a girl. Not if they deserve it." He snarls, his nostrils flaring, jaw clenched, and just as his fist tightens when one of the two laughs, Castiel tugs on Dean's arm.

"She's not worth it." Dean hears Castiel's hushed voice murmur beside him, his boney hands wrapped around Dean's bicep, but as Dean's eyes flick between the girls and his friend, he decides to let this anger get the best of him; not exactly in the way that he's sure everyone else around them thought he would, however. Dean pulls Castiel's hand off of his arm and lets his fist fly toward the bottle blonde girl that laughed. He watches her flinch and then stills his fist inches from her cheek, her eyes close and expression distorted into a terrified expression. Dean pulls his fist away and leans into her face once more, teeth clenched as he tells her, "talk shit about me all you want, but don't you _ever_ fucking dare to talk shit about him again, or so help me god I won't stop next time." He says nothing more as he grabs Castiel's hand and storms into the sophomore hall, spotting Sam amongst the crowd on the way, smiling at him as they pass the completely silent space around them.

"You didn't have to do that." Castiel says, his voice a whisper after they stop at their respective lockers. Dean just looks at him as he leans against a set of lockers with his books gripped between his hanging palm and his jean clad thigh.

"-but I'm glad you did." Castiel says, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Dean thinks absently about how much he likes it when Castiel smiles, how beautiful it is.

"Who knew you could be so scary." Castiel says, bumping his shoulder with Dean's as the first bell rings and they start toward the same direction to different destinations together. Dean laughs, putting his arm around his friend's shoulder to pull him in and kiss his the crown of his head. Dean doesn't see it but Castiel blushes.

"Hey, Dean, have you ever thought about joining a club?" Castiel asks him as they finish off their second halfsied ham and provolone during lunch that same day. Dean looks up from the homework he's trying to finish before 6th and eyes Castiel suspiciously.

"Hell no, why?" Dean questions, setting down his pencil and giving Castiel his full attention. Castiel laughs in a nervous way that, Dean thinks, makes him look adorable.

"Because I am thinking of starting one." Castiel responds, locking his gaze with Dean's only to break it a moment later as Dean makes a disgruntled noise.

"What kind of club?" he asks, unsure of the idea. Kids at this school already made fun of Castiel enough as it is, he doesn't think starting a club would exactly be taking a step away from that.

"A self-defense one…" Castiel says, picking at the discarded crust placed atop one of the two empty zip-lock bags. Dean watches him with unsure eyes.

"Cas… " Dean says, about to go on about all of the reasons why Castiel shouldn't do this, but Castiel interrupts him.

"No, Dean. I really want to do this. I-I really appreciate that you defended me like that this morning, but I want to learn to defend myself." Castiel says it so sincerely, he seems so full of life and inspiration and purpose that Dean can't find it in himself to shoot him down, so he goes along with the idea.

"So, who's gonna lead this club?" Dean asks now, giving Castiel a small smile and going back to his trig homework.

"I was thinking that maybe we could get Mr. Shurley to. I know he is just the new English teacher and he probably does not know a thing about defense fighting, but all he has to do is be there to supervise. If we get students in the club that know how to fight, that would not be a problem." Castiel says, eyeing Dean hopefully as he the last sentence flows from his lips.

"And you think I know how to fight?" Dean says, raising his eyebrow and looking up once more at Castiel, who was giving him a look that says _Are you kidding me?_

"Okay, maybe I do know a thing or two." Dean says, trying to hold his ground, but he begins to lose his stern stance as soon as Castiel puts on the best puppy-dog look he's ever seen, even better than Sam's, which is saying something.

"Okay, okay! I surrender. I'll join your damn club! Just stop that. You're giving me heart palpations." Deans says, writing down the last answer on his paper and mentally slapping himself for letting his feelings for this boy sway him so easily. It becomes clear to Dean now, in this very moment, that he may be letting the shy, insightful boy that decided he would make a good friend pull on his heart a little bit more than he would allow for just a friend.


	7. Castiel: Hope & Dates

Now

Castiel gets a call from Dean in the middle of his workday on Monday. He checks behind him into Crowley's office, confirming the all-clear before answering and pressing the phone to his ear. He minimizes Dean's article that he's working on drafting up and spins in his chair. Charlie, his colleague that he's known since the days of Dean in High school, looks up from her own work and gives him a wide eyed, suspicious look. She knows that this behavior is very unlike him; he's not the kind of reporter to neglect his writing for a phone-call during work hours.

"You didn't call me today, like you said you would." Dean greets, voice a playful-admonishment.

"Well, it's only three-o' clock, Dean, and I am still working. You called me before I had the chance." Castiel speaks into the phone, and as soon as Charlie hears him speak the name "Dean", she lets out a girlish squeal, getting up from her chair and crowding around him. She puts her ear up to the other side of the phone to try and hear what Dean is saying and Castiel tries to shoo her away.

"Since when have you been talking to Dean again? I thought that ended a long time ago. Oh, but I so don't care. Just give me the scoop." She whispers quietly, but evidently not quietly enough, because Dean hears.

"Are you talking about me? Oh, Cas, I'm honored." Dean says with a laugh. Castiel blushes a rosy color and gives Charlie a death glare.

"Yes, well, Charlie just ca not seem to keep to her own business." Castiel tells him truthfully, shooting a snotty look to where Charlie has scurried back to her own desk.

"Charlie? Charlie Bradbury? Wow, that's a name I haven't heard since high school. She works with you?" Dean says in enthusiasm, but Castiel doesn't have a chance to answer because Crowley comes up behind him and takes his phone.

"She is one of my best desk-jockeys, unlike your friend here, who should be working on his article instead of taking personal calls on the job." Crowley speaks into the phone and Castiel is immediately scared for the safety of his job, even though somewhere deep within him believes that Crowley secretly has a soft spot for him. Crowley hangs up the call and hands the phone back to Castiel. He gives his employee a proper _You should know by now not to do that _look and disappears back into his office. Castiel lets out a sigh of relief and maximizes his story again. _If I cannot talk to Dean I can at least write about him_, Castiel's brain supplies, but then he rethinks the words and comes up with a resounding _that sounded really creepy_.

Castiel and Dean make a plan to "hang" at Dean's place that night, so as soon as Castiel gets off at five, he heads over to Dean's apartment. When he rings the doorbell, Sam answers, or at least he thinks it's Sam. He's taller, a lot taller. He has tanner skin, is much more muscular and has grown his hair out considerably, but his eyes are the same shade of soft brown that he remembers and he has the same kind smile he wore the first time he ever met Castiel.

"Castiel!" Sam greets him, enveloping the now much shorter man in a hug.

"Dean did not mention how much you've grown, Sammy." Castiel says in what he's come to know throughout the years as his brotherly voice.

"What can I say, I guess I really like my spinach." Sam jokes, waving Castiel into the living room. Castiel laughs along with him and remembers somewhere in the back of his mind the first time Dean ever showed him an old episode of Popeye after he admitted that he didn't get all the spinach references that the brothers threw around.

"I was actually just leaving. Dean'll be out in a minute. Told me it wasn't a date, but I'm pretty sure he's secretly hoping it turns into one." Sam tells Castiel, winking at him before opening the front door once again. He stops for a short second and looks back at Castiel.

"It's really great to have you back, Cas." He says with a small smile before disappearing on the other side of the door. Castiel hears the sound of a car starting and driving away minutes later. He can't help but feel a fluttering in his stomach as he takes a seat on the black leather couch against the far wall of the small apartment. He wasn't necessarily hoping for this to be a date but at the same time he kind of was. He doesn't know what he wants, he realizes, when it comes to Dean. He still loves Dean; that much he knows, but he doesn't know if his heart is quite ready to start this relationship back up again. He doesn't know what he'll with himself if it doesn't work out again.

Castiel hears a door from inside the hall to the left open and he panics. He stands and smooths out the wrinkles in his trench coat, his eyes sliding to the door as his mind tries to decipher whether or not he would have time to run. He decides to chance it, taking quick steps to the door, his mind swirling with the sadness of the past, but just as he opens it, he hears Dean's voice.

"Just go." Dean's soft voice is choked. It makes Castiel still with his hand on the knob of the now ajar door. He turns after a few moments and his eyes meet Dean. He's standing at the intersection of the hall and the open living room, his eyes trained to his chest as his hands hastily work to undo a perfectly knotted tie from around his neck. There is water dripping from the widow's peak of his hair onto the long sleeved button-up he wears, leaving small, almost see-through spots on the white fabric. For some reason it makes Castiel's mind go to his father's funeral. He and Dean had only been together for a few months when his mother called with the news; Castiel's father had been found dead on the side of the road, his sleek black Porsche crashed into a large metal pole ten or so feet away from where his savaged body lay. "He was headed home," Castiel dropped his cell phone and crumpled to the floor in a fit of laughter when he heard those words being muttered in his mother's broken tone. He didn't cry like any normal human being would have. He laughed. He laughed and he couldn't stop laughing because, for some reason unbeknownst to himself, the whole situation seemed so very comical. _Distant father of five killed in attempt to redeem himself _Castiel thought to himself, and it circled in his mind as he let out one choked sound after another, clutching his stomach. Dean came back into the living room minutes later from the kitchen with two sandwiches, both cut in two. The sandwiches joined Castiel's shattered cell phone on the floor and Dean ran over to where Castiel had cascaded onto the dark hardwood floor next to the stairs, still in a haze of hilarity. Dean couldn't get Castiel to stop laughing, because whenever Castiel would start to utter the words he needed to say, the laughter would take over again. He did finally get the words out, hours later as he lay in Dean's arms in the same place he had collapsed, along with a soft "Can I just- be alone right now?". Dean left without another word and communication was cut off between the two of them until five days later, the night before the funeral, when Castiel called Dean to ask him to be there.

Dean showed up at the funeral in the rain, wearing dark wash jeans and a black Metallica T-shirt with a red tie fastened perfectly around the collar of the shirt. The casual nature of him in stark contrast with the black, perfectly pressed suit and blue tie that Castiel wore. Castiel remembers that now, the way that he saw the rain drip down from Dean's face onto the cotton of the Metallica shirt and the satin red tie he wore then. It made him smile a real, genuine smile for the first time in days and once the corners of his mouth rose toward the sky, Castiel was able to confide in Dean about how cruel it had seemed to him that the _one time_ that his father had ever tried to be a father, he had died, and how he knew that it seemed silly, stupid even, that he had had hope; hope that was crushed the moment he picked up that phone.

"It's not stupid, Cas. Hope isn't stupid." Dean had said, taking Castiel into his arms, and that's how they stayed for the rest of the funeral, right up until Castiel dropped a hand full of dirt onto his father's grave and immediately turned away after.

Now, Castiel keeps his eyes on the droplets of water dripping onto Dean's shirt, and as he does, a realization comes to his mind that _No, hope isn't stupid_ So he closes the front door and walks over to where Dean is still standing, his tie now untied from his neck and hanging free on either side of his shirt's collar and decides that this is something worth hoping for again.

"No." is all Castiel says as he grabs onto both sides of the tie and crashes his lips to Dean's.

Then

Castiel's self-defense club officially starts after a week filled with getting it approved by staff and organizing a set schedule. They decided that meetings will be held every Tuesday and Friday after school, and on the first day, which lands on the Friday after the almost-punch debacle, a considerable amount of people show up, really just five not including Dean and himself, but Castiel decides that he'll take what he can get.

"Okay, guys, so welcome to the first ever meeting of the Wendover High Self-Defense Club. Um… This club was started by your fellow student, Castiel Novak-" Mr. Shurley cuts off to nod in Castiel's direction and starts up again.

"I'm Mr. Shurley, but I guess you can call me Chuck if you don't find that weird. I'll be your advisor. I _don't_ fight and I don't plan to, so I guess as long as you guys don't kill each other, everything'll turn out fine." Chuck ends with an awkward kind of smile and sits back down behind his desk, turning back to his laptop where he types away and ignores the students seated at the desk in front of him. Castiel stands up from the desk in the front row that he had been occupying and begins to address his peers.

"Hello. I'm Castiel and I am going to be the manager of this club. We will not be fighting today, that will start next Tuesday, so today we are just going to be going over some rules and regulations and… other stuff." Castiel says, somewhat self-consciously, he then splits the small stack of papers in his hands in two and hands one stack to Dean, who is sitting on the table top of the desk next to his.

"This is Dean. He is-" Castiel begins to say, putting a hand on dean's shoulder, but he is interrupted as a dark haired upperclassman cuts in.

"Your boyfriend?" she says, loudly, in a tone that drips with mockery. Castiel's cheeks flush bright and he begins to cough, his papers slipping from his hands.

"So, what if I am?" Dean speaks up, hopping down from the desk; patting Castiel on the back and helping him pick up the pages he dropped. Castiel's cough dies down but his cheeks say bright as his mind whirls with the words that Dean has just said '_So, what if I am?' What does he mean 'So, what if I am?'?_

"Nothing. I mean I'm cool with the whole guy on guy thing, and I just kind of figured, you and Novak are just _oozing_ with sexual tension, and who hasn't seen you guys all gushy with each other at lunch… and in the halls." The girl retorts, making a disgusted face.

"And who are you?" Dean asks as he passes out papers. His voice is rude, or at least the rudest that Castiel's ever heard it without being completely seething.

"The name's Meg. It's nice to make your acquaintance, pretty boy, or I guess I should say, pretty boys? If you wanna get together for a three-some some time, I won't say no." she delivers, flicking her gaze between Dean and Castiel.

"You're a bitch." A different, small in pitch but strong in tone, voice pipes up from near where Dean was previously

"Well, if it isn't little Winchester." Meg says, looking down at the paper that Dean handed her with a scowl.

"My name's Sam, and you can leave them alone now, because, you know, seventh graders hear a lot of gossip, a lot of which I'm pretty sure is true. Isn't that right Meg?" That shuts Meg up and Castiel glances to the desk behind Dean's, where Sam is sitting, as he takes his seat once more. Dean plops down next to him moments later and gives his brother a fist-bump.

They spend the rest of the meeting going over rules 'No face-hits, No below-the-belt hits, etc…'. Jess flirts with Sam the entire time, passing him notes and at one point, even attempts to play footsie with him, only to be laughed at by both Castiel and Dean when she hits her toe on the metal chair of the desk and lets out a "crap!". Dean leans over to Castiel and asks him to convey to Jess that she doesn't need to be so obvious because it's pretty obvious that Sam gets it. Castiel does and by the end of the class Sam has an official date set up with Jess at the Winchester residence for Saturday night. Dean asks Castiel if he wants to 'hang out' at Dean's Saturday night, "You know, so we can chaperone." He says in a whisper, as they arrive at Jess' and she gets out of the car, pressing a soft kiss to Sam's cheek.

"It is not a date, is it? Because I do not think one house could handle that much awkwardness." Castiel quips, but it's only half-hearted because he does hope that it is a date. Dean doesn't answer, but Castiel could swear that he sees the hint of a smile playing on his lips. They get back onto the road and Dean hums along to some classic rock song, drumming on the steering wheel at stop lights as Sam complains about the same song from the backseat. Castiel is jittery, considering that maybe he didn't say it jokingly enough and Dean thinks he's serious, even though he kind of is, and that Dean is just waiting to tell him 'Sorry, man, but I don't like you that way. Maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore. This is just weird' and Castiel doesn't know if he could deal with not having Dean there for him. He doesn't know if he could just go back to the way his sad life used to be, but as the pull up to Castiel's house, Dean gets out of the car with him and walks him up to the door and Castiel thinks to himself _This is it, I'm a goner_.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Is all Dean says, pulling Castiel in for a hug and a quick kiss to the forehead. Dean makes no comment of Castiel's previous comment and Castiel is appreciative of that. He does find himself thinking as he walks up the stairs and into his room, however, that he would like, very much, to have Dean's lips on his own lips instead of on his forehead.


End file.
